


Conservation of Mass / Conservation of Matter

by AcidicVermin9



Category: Midnight Poppy Land (Webcomic)
Genre: Angels, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Flash Fic, Fluff, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28814484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcidicVermin9/pseuds/AcidicVermin9
Summary: Works of completely creative, non-canon flash fiction, based on the relationship between Poppy and Tora ofMidnight Poppyland, created by Lilydusk.
Relationships: Tora/Poppy Wilkes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. Poppylan

Breathing in and out, it is all I can do to lament to myself to what I have witnessed for far too long, “So much PAIN…”

I hover above the troposphere, arms wide, fingers splayed, as my luscious hair and angelic gown flutter in the brutal winds and eddies that would freeze most mere mortals in an instant.

But my wings are steady within this maelstrom.

I am truly life and hope incarnate.

I am the balm to counter the pain, to ease death into a new form.

But also I seek so much more.

Thousands of feet below me float massive gorgeous clouds that I normally would seek to slumber in, but cannot. 

Their lure is starting to wane, and I have to fight the rage I feel, the pain I sense, and the regret that I could not have found him sooner.

My eyes are shut tight, I am fighting to keep my temper in check.

Trying not to lose control, trying to keep the universe from unraveling.

My body continues to gently bob and dip in the turbulent air, as I seek comfort within myself, but knowing, just knowing, I need to do it. I **want** to do it.

I need to see him, go to him. It is fate.

I emit a glow, a white hot and blue fire that makes me appear a star to guide any sailors below on the seas of blue-green, but slowly, ever so slowly, I change, I shift to instead emit a golden brown aura. 

Now, I am ready to descend, seeking the form I’ve been watching for some time, a bright red dot moving within the sparkling landscape far below.

I am drawn to it like a moth to a flame, opposite poles of a magnet.

Forgetting the floating clouds, the seas of blue-green, I hone in on and target that spot of red, that flame calling to me, my fate, my love, my new life.

Just as I begin my final descent, I breathe in the chaos of the universe; I cannot help but mumble quietly, “So much DEATH….” but I’m the only one hearing the words, knowing it will all be changing.

For the better.


	2. Tora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another flash fiction piece. Enjoy.

He walks down the crowded city sidewalks, amongst crowds of way too many f*cking people, all of whom emit black, grey auras.

They are f*cking repulsive.

To him, they appear invisible, meaningless, misery incarnate, all walking in his way.

He doesn’t know why he’s walking against the stream of people, only that he seeks some way, **any** way to escape from the violence.

His path forward divides them, moving the lost souls to go around him like water around a stalwart rock within a stream.

Still, he would like nothing more than to shove them out of his way, pound them to paste, taking out his rage anyway he can. 

But instead, he mumbles, mutters his distress. 

He takes a deep drag of the cigarette he’s been holding in his right hand, slowly blowing the smoke back out.

He grumbles to himself, profane as ever, “F*ck this shit.”

He needs to escape, somewhere, ANYWHERE, so he can avoid another day of dealing with the pain, the agony, the DEATH he has seen far too often.

He doesn’t know it, but he emits his own aura, a bright hot red one, sparking and spitting above his head.

He continues to walk forward, doing his best to keep his anger within himself. 

He knows his appearance makes those near him shudder, turn away.

“Good. I don’t f*cking want you near me anyways, f*cktwats,” he says under his breath.

He keeps walking, with no set destination in mind, feeling the weight of the universe upon his strong back. 

It may bow, but it has never broken, at least not yet.

But he has gotten close, too damn f*cking close, too many times.

His strength is the only thing keeping him alive, sane.

He knows there is something better, but when will it ever arrive? 

If it ever arrives.

Fate, he believes, is sometimes a testy motherf*cker. 

But I can dream.

And he does dream. 

Of _her._

An angel, a beautiful face, a calming figure, one that always appears behind his eyelids when he sleeps, but never in front of his face when he wakes.

He desperately wants to meet her, to know if she’s real.

He is forever moving, wandering, just in case she appears in front him, real and breathing. 

He wants her. He **_needs_** her.

His steps leave scorching, smoking footprints in his wake that slowly dissipate.

He has to let off the tension somehow, even if it is ethereal and symbolic to the spirits he’s stuck with.

Just as he is about to give up, to maybe find a drastic way out, he hears a loud crack, like a jet breaking the sound barrier. 

But no one else seems to hear it.

“What the f*ck was _that_?”

He looks around him, but then, then he notices it.

A gleaming bolt, a glowing beam of golden brown light has hit the ground, in the distance, remaining for perhaps another half minute or so, then it begins to fade. 

It sparkled so clearly and caught his immediate attention, enticing, alluring, and he knows. 

He knows what this is, what it means. 

_It’s_ **_her_** **.**

Not close to him, by any means, but at a point, a space that he has visibly witnessed and can start to move himself towards.

He knows the direction he needs to go, where she is, what to do now.

And for the first time in a very long time, he has hope.


End file.
